


Bird of Paradise

by GlyphArchive



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Background Relationships, Banter, Character Development, Distrust, Gen, Growing Up, Looking out for one another, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23577313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlyphArchive/pseuds/GlyphArchive
Summary: It is better to be in the background sometimes, when others focus on the illustrious elder brothers and leave him and his twin to their own devices. They do their work best that way, even if it’s never acknowledged.
Kudos: 9





	Bird of Paradise

There was something to be said for the utility of a mirror. Particularly one that fit well in the palm of one’s hand, could be angled just so to catch the light, and be inconspicuous enough that most did not notice it. Even better if it lacked trim of any kind.

Nakula is well aware that his cousins mock him as being vain (and he is, of course he is; every bit as vain about his appearance as Sahadeva was about his intelligence) – but it is easy enough to ignore what they say. Unless it is about something important – about his maa or his brothers, anything that pertains to their precarious situation within the palace.

No matter what Maa Kunti says, it is obvious that they are not welcome here; in Hastinapur. No amount of fine silks, gold and jewels can obscure that; and Nakula does not have Yudhisthira’s seemingly endless well of forgiveness if it means being able to get along with the Kurus.

So he holds the mirror up and studies his reflection within it curiously, commits details to memory. Then he breaks it into little pieces, makes use of an abandoned mortar and pestle before sprinkling fine grains of almost powdered glass into sandals or food. Drink as well, if he can manage it. The stuff is tasteless at least, and no one seems to notice.

A few of his cousins complain of sore throats that evening and into the next day, or that their feet and bodies pain them.

Nakula says nothing and plays with his brothers.

* * *

It is a relief to walk through the woods again, after contenting himself to being within the walls of their cousins’ palace. His brothers like the change as well – Pandu did his best to teach them everything he’d deemed important in his life; to value family and take care of each other, to uphold what is righteous and when to fight for their own honor.

He did not, unfortunately, ever impress upon them that they could be happy in any place besides the wilderness; which was unbound by human walls and human restrictions. Drona’s hermitage was more like home than any building in Hastinapur, even if it had to be shared between a hundred and six boys.

Nakula takes his time among the trees, plucks up greenery that looks like weeds to his cousins and spends hours of preciously allotted free time hunting down certain flowers and mushrooms. Drona did not ask for them, no; but the gurudev’s wife, Kripi, is grateful for them when he presses them into her hands.

“For the pain in your legs, Maa.” He tells her blithely, smiling like a child. “And the flowers are for your hair.”

She smiles back at him, her weathered palm heavy and warm when she pats his head once in thanks.

“Go see to your chores.”

He nods, then bows to take his leave; disappearing among the other boys easily.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Dushala’s eyes track him as he looks through the bottles arranged by her servants. Fragrance, ointments, oils for her hair and skin, remedies for blemishes. Duds as well, Nakula sees; potions that promise ridiculous things.

“Use this one.” The stamp is a simple one, marked with the etching popular among noblewomen of Kashi. “It will work better for you.”

She quirks a brow at him but takes the bottle. None of her brothers know a thing about the effort that goes into a woman’s beauty, or the routine it takes to keep themselves so. “And how do you know? You’re a boy. No one expects you to wear powders or paints.”

“That does not mean I cannot appreciate the colors or the technique myself.” That is the easiest answer, he’s found; when people make such comments. “The next time your maids bring in lotuses, take a few of the petals once they fall off. If you bruise them their fragrance will stay on your skin and there’ll be no need to fret with pastes.”

Dushala considers it, still looking at him with faint suspicion. To his credit, he has never joined in with her brothers when it came to stealing her dolls or making off with her combs. Duryodhana has never intentionally been cruel to her, but it is easy to overlook one sister when he is surrounded by ninety-nine brothers.

“If you don’t believe me, you can ask a maid to test it first.” Nakula shrugs. “Two petals should suffice, else it will be very strong.”

“Do you know of something that will help with headaches?” She asks, turning the bottle he’d recommended around in her hands. “Maa gets them often. She goes into Shiva’s temple then, and does not come out unless pita sends for her himself.”

“I know a little.” Nakula ventures slowly. Medicines for humans are not quite within his realm of limited expertise, but whatever he does not know he can always ask Sahadeva. “We can try and find something.”

* * *

One thing that comes from their partial recognition as heirs to the Kuru line is that it puts them in contact with Madras and its king; whom had been Madri’s brother and sad to see her go with Pandu back to Hastinapur. Shalya, relieved to hear that his sister’s children had survived their mother’s passing, wasted no time in offering them a place among the court.

It did not feel like a matter that bore discussing with Maa Kunti or their half-siblings. Much as Nakula loved them (and he did, always would) they had each other and Sahadeva was the only one with the same parents as himself.

“Madras is pleasant in the summer.” He offered after Sahadeva finished reading the letter and had begun to stare into space aimlessly, conflicted. “They rely on horses for much of their stock, rather than elephants. Their library is smaller, but it is well-maintained.”

Hastinapur had ministers and astrologers aplenty, but many of the books and scrolls gathered dust or could no longer be considered totally accurate. And he knew that Sahadeva had already picked out his favorites among the lot; pouring over charts with more focus than even Arjun could conjure for archery, mapping the heavens with reverent attentiveness.

“You could also attend more _pujas_ to your Krishna.” Nakula adds, gently teasing and feels pleased when the tips of Sahadeva’s ears darken a little. “Since you love him so.”

“And you would spend all _your_ hours in the Ashvins’ temples.” Sahadeva countered, mostly good-naturedly. “Since you love them so.”

There was an obvious joke to be made about Madras’s horse fairs, which were famous; and how they’d both pleaded with Maa Kunti to go before they’d been sent off to gurudev Drona’s asharam. But she could not excuse two small boys being left to their own devices for so long on the roads unattended, rightfully worried for what might happen if they were caught unawares.

Nakula couldn’t hold it against her, really. There would be other fairs in the future.

“They’re our fathers.” He replies instead, shifting to lean against Sahadeva and rest his head on his brother’s shoulder. “It would be nice to be near them, I’ll admit. It’s as near as we’ll likely ever get.”

“But that would mean leaving.” Sahadeva mused quietly, once more studying the letter. “And it would break Maa Kunti’s heart if we left.”

Yudhisthira would let them go, Nakula knew; if they truly expressed a desire to live with their maternal uncle. He’d worry over their health, if they were behaving; but he would also want them to be happy. Bhima – well, it was likely that Bhima would raise a fuss about it. Arjuna could be anyone’s guess, depending on his mood or if he’d given in to wanderlust himself; as he was prone to.

But Sahadeva was Kunti’s darling, and she gave him her entire heart. Losing him would be a blow to her and a part of Nakula suspected Bhima might not forgive them for it for a while.

“We’ve been to Madras before.” Nakula pointed out, pressing his cheek against his brother’s shoulder before sitting up. The Madraraj had made it a point to invite them to stay every year for at least a month or two, longer if it could be managed; sending them back with reluctance each time. “So we have an idea of what to expect. There is no need to decide upon it yet, when we are just now eighteen.”

“He wants us to be his heirs.” Sahadeva countered, tone going flat. A frown tugged at his mouth, and finally he tossed the letter away. “He has sons, but would prefer us over them. Power, he says. Power we’ll not have if we stay in Hastinapur and remain one in four and five down the line of succession.”

One throne for Nakula in northern Madras, if they accepted; a second for Sahadeva in southern Madras and each of them would be kings for certain and able to rule as they liked.

At the cost of their family in Hastinapur, naturally; and the ties they’d already made.

“It is a mess.” Nakula admitted with a sigh, finding Sahadeva’s hand and gently squeezing it. “But I have no intention of going, if you do not. At least we may thank the gods that Savitri is among our fore-mothers,” he added in a lighter tone, hoping to tease a smile out of his twin. “If she could debate with Yama and earn back her husband from death; we can find a solution for this.”

That, at least, took some of the resignation from Sahadeva’s expression. It wasn’t a smile, no, but it would do for now.

“What do we tell Maa Kunti?” Sahadeva asked, looking as young as he was at last and not somber like some rishi come down from the mountains.

“A letter came from our uncle.” Nakula replied after a moment’s thought. “Not really any different from the usual. He gave us no ultimatum, so we can answer as we like.”

* * *

“It is a pity that you are descended from the Bahlika tribes and not the Bharatas.” One of the old kings of Anga mused, watching as Nakula applied salve to the hoof of his horse. A splendid creature really – dun coat and man well-maintained, teeth strong and healthy. The stallion had shuddered when Nakula brushed his hand over one long leg and now Nakula could see why.

The scars were well healed and old, but it was telling of a man who preferred to punish his animals so and take such care to hide the evidence.

“And why is that, Lord?” Nakula asked, playing along as he continued his work; murmuring soothingly when the stallion’s nostrils flared.

“Were you a proper man, you might’ve had a wife already. Or someone willing to sponsor you.” The older man replied, grinning a little. “It is a pity that Pandu agreed to take a bride from an inferior race and diluted his own blood in doing so. You’re good with horses, but that is all someone like you can hope to be. Expected, since the best of your brothers came from Pritha’s womb.”

_And you speak as though Anga did not beg for steeds that can survive well in the worst summer heat and endure the cold of your autumns_ , Nakula did not say; giving his charge one last affectionate pat on the side of his neck.

“It is done, my Lord.” Smiling, Nakula tipped his head to the side guilelessly. “He will recover. But you must take care not to ride him too hard, else the wound will reopen and infection might set in.”

That earned him an inclination of the king’s head and no more. The stallion nosed at his fingers when he started to move away and Nakula briefly pressed his forehead against the spot of black between the other’s eyes.

There were plenty of rocky banks where a horse might be forgiven for throwing its rider and an old man with no accompanying retinue might not fare so well against the elements if he went undiscovered for a time. A little nudge on where to go, exchanged when the old man was not paying attention; and no one might think anything of it later, only that it was a shame it had happened.

“He was a cruel devil and you know it.” Nakula countered Sahadeva’s knowing glance with the truth when the news eventually came on the rumor mill. “Don’t squint at me like that. Had it been a cow, you would have done the same.”

* * *

Their exile from Hastinapur might have been worse if they all did not already have experience living in the wilds. It went without saying that they could not, immediately, return; and it was so very generous of Krishna, their maternal cousin, to extend an invitation to Dwarka for them to recover.

It would likely come to bite them later like an ornery mare prodded one too many times by careless hands, but they were all tired and any respite from betrayal and _rakshasa_ was preferable.

Nakula didn’t doubt Bhima’s strength – but Hidimbi’s whims were not likely to be common and without the heart of their family around it was obvious that _something_ would have to give. And Sahadeva was starry-eyed, completely smitten; as was Arjuna. Maa Kunti, it seemed, had suspicions as to _who_ their unexpected helper was but if she shared her thoughts with anyone then it was not with Nakula himself.

Such mattered less once they were in Dwarka itself and the truth came out, at least to him. They were safe for the moment, and that was enough.

He fell in love with the modest collection of horses Dwarka could boast a day later, nearly as hard as Sahadeva did with Krishna’s beloved cows. They were accepting dears, in particular a sweet-tempered white mare that belong to Krishna’s mother; Devaki. Nakula crooned over them approvingly, delighted – waving off Yudhisthira’s thinly veiled exasperation and Arjuna’s bewilderment.

Not that _either_ of them could talk, since by the time Suryadev’s chariot reached its zenith both were either debating among the Yadava council with glee or, in Arjuna’s case, off somewhere with Krishna or being appraised by Satyabhama.

* * *

“I’m surprised you have the patience for him at all,” Nakula huffed, tying the last of the grain onto Balarama’s cart. Dwarka was, politely speaking, struggling to lift itself from the ground as a kingdom; every hand that _could_ help was appreciated and Nakula himself had finally grown tired of turning around to find Krishna somehow within earshot wherever he looked. Except for the fields, it seemed, where the most work needed to be done and it appear that Balarama was the one to take that burden; aside from a cadre of Dwarka’s more able-bodied citizens. “How does anything get done, if he is that irresponsible?”

Balabhadra, who despite being able to outstrip Bhima in terms of height and build had so far proven to be a quiet sort of man, snorted loudly enough that it startled the draw-horse. He’d said less than ten words the entire time they had been working, besides providing insight on where harvesting should begin and which groups would be best suited where. Having watched him work, Nakula felt certain Balarama alone could till, plow and sow the entirety of the island if the mood struck him and still have the energy to berate his erstwhile brother.

“Kanha has his ways.” Was the reply, shortly followed by a gentle word to the cart horse to soothe it. Balarama had a fondness for animals, not just cows, and Nakula could freely admire that about him. “Do I understand them? No. But he does the things he needs to and what he can’t handle, I take care of.”

“Has it always been so?” Nakula asked, tugging the tie from his hair and shaking it out before putting it back up again; glancing at the other with genuine curiosity.

His cousin’s features were a mask of indifference, likely long-practiced.

“Yes.” Balarama’s voice was a low rumble, not unlike what announced thunderstorms out of the blue in windswept plains.

* * *

The princess Draupadi was – and would always be, Nakula suspected – a formidable woman even when she was in a good mood. With the excitement of escaping her swayamvara behind them, and with Narada’s decree firmly wrapped about them all like a noose; they had to settle into their roles accordingly. Arjuna had gone outside and hadn’t returned just yet. Yudhisthira, now realizing that he was a husband in truth, took it upon himself to try and smooth out any ruffled feathers.

Draupadi herself seemed to take the situation in stride, a thin smile occasionally quirking her mouth that had nothing to do with what Yudhisthira said.

It was… strange to think that in three years’ time she would be his own wife, then his sister-in-law the next year after that; and three more years before they’d be tied to each other again. Whatever logic Narada had summoned up to justify it honestly did not seem worth the trouble, yet here they were.

Sahadeva shared a look with him once Bhima remarked that someone needed to fetch their missing brother and drag him back inside, else he’d get no dinner; moving to stand right as Nakula did.

“What do you think?”

“A mess. But bhaiyaa knew better than to interrupt Maa praying. Now we just have to readjust.”

They’d survived nearly being burnt alive and eaten by rakshasa before, various poisonings and attempted robberies. A bride was an entirely different sort of challenge, especially when such conditions had been laid down.

“If you love her, I can forgo my year.” Nakula offered, fully aware that it probably sounded ridiculous to say that now; when they were all her brothers-in-law and not her husband.

“Noble.” Sahadeva hummed, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. “And if you come to love her first?”

He thought about it, pleased to see that Arjuna hadn’t wandered much farther than the stable they’d cobbled together. “If it would make you happy, I suppose. I could try, at least.”

“We’ll see.” Sahadeva shrugged, then raised his voice. “Bhaiyaa!”

* * *

“You’re good at this.” Draupadi hissed at first when he pressed down, then turned languid with a sigh as Nakula massaged the aches from her feet. She carried tension in her arches, he’d noticed; rather than the sole or ball like any of his brothers. Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes; tiredness finally revealing itself underneath the firebrand that she was. “Thank you.”

“It is no trouble.” They had to keep moving to avoid detection, after all. But for all her impressive stamina Draupadi was not as used to trekking through wilderness as they were. “If something hurts, let me know so I can do better. Otherwise relax, _priye_.”

The word still felt odd in his mouth, though they’d been married for two months into his first year as her husband. By the time he got used to it she would be Sahadeva’s wife, then Yudhisthira’s, and so on.

Still, a good husband could hardly let his wife suffer and he did not mind rubbing her feet.

“You don’t trust me.” Draupadi stated after several minutes had passed and she’d sunk further into their bed. “Not really. You haven’t since your brother won my hand.”

He’d expected something along the lines of such a conversation at some point, though perhaps not in those words specifically. Nakula moved on to her ankles, humming softly under his breath. “I trust you as my other half, as I am yours as well. You’re insightful, and clever, and you have a curious sense of humor.”

“And here I thought it would be my beauty that pleased you most.” She was smiling faintly, but her eyes remained closed. “Though I admit not being referred to as ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’ is a nice change, for once.”

“Did you fear that I might feel threatened by it?” Nakula chuckled. “If I am as lovely as Kamadeva, does that make you Rati? Or should it be the other way around, Princess?”

She cracked an eye open to peer at him, adjusting her head for a better angle. “You are vain, as they say. But so am I, I suppose. I’ve yet to meet a person who isn’t, in some way.”

“The closest you might get among us is Bhima.” Nakula admitted, smiling. “Yudhisthira takes pride in his memory and his knowledge of the law, and his great yoke called _dharma_. It is what our father impressed upon him, to always be righteous and faultless; and so he’ll act like he knows the answer to everything when the truth is that he must debate for several hours before he can make a decision. Arjuna, past archery, can never accept not knowing something or not seeing the proof for himself. You could tell him that the distant sea of our cousin’s kingdom turns purple at dawn and he’d never believe you until you showed him yourself. Sahadeva loves all knowledge, and craves it, and can’t stomach the thought of not being taken seriously or being right. He’ll parade it over you, but that is his way of being excited, and it’s endearing within the first ten minutes.”

Draupadi’s brows rose and then she was grinning, fascinated and amused. “And yourself, my Kamadev? What faults do you have, since you speak of others’ so easily?”

“I love attention and I’m prone to bouts of pettiness and occasional jealousy if I feel slighted.” Nakula deadpanned, smile widening when she laughed. “Bhima is not the first to claim that I must have been a bird in a past life, since I love posturing, objects that shine, and don’t eat proper meals. It is up to you to decide whether that’s true or not, priye; but I rarely hold grudges against my family. Vain I am, but not disloyal.”

“So I see.” She managed between breaths, still laughing. “And so Bhima is the least vain of all, then?”

Drumming his fingers gently on her shin, Nakula hummed in agreement. “He is. Bhima knows he can cook, that he is likely to be one of the best to ever do so – but his pride is modest. Besides his temper and his appetite, bhaiyaa is a simple man. What you see is what you get, and if you ever need anything at all he’ll bend heaven and earth to make sure you get it.”

“I see.” Draupadi shook her head, relaxing once more as he resumed the massage. Then she nudged him lightly with her foot. “But I am your wife this year, not his; or anyone else’s. If you could trust me, then I would be happy. Even if you cannot, I would be glad to be your friend.”

“I’d like that.” He admitted, eyes soft.

* * *

“You’re going back to school?” Yudhisthira asked, leaning back in his seat with another cup of coffee. He looked tired, drawn too thin and it was honestly a shame that they’d let him get this bad to begin with. “So soon, after leaving modeling? You haven’t taken a break at all.”

“The semester doesn’t start for another three months.” Nakula countered, pushing back the bristling reply that first came to mind. “I would have plenty of time, as you say, to take a break. I’ll have to start late, but yes; I’d like to go back to school.”

“Why?” Yudhisthira took a sip of his coffee, lashes low. “What field?”

“Medicine.” The word left his mouth robotically, a knee-jerk reaction that he’d prepared just for this. “Maybe I’ll be a veterinarian, who knows.”

As expected Yudhisthira frowns deeper and his eyes get the sharp, authoritative quality that only Bhima has ever been able to completely shake off.

“Why?” He repeats, slow and sure; all his attention focused on getting an answer.

Nakula hates it, really. “Because I should, and I dropped out when I should’ve stayed. Modeling got us the money we needed and it was fun.” It was also tiring, and he’d like to be able to actually taste what he ate again. “It was a suggestion, and it stuck. Happy?”

“Are you?” Yudhisthira counters placidly, brows raised.

“Not really.” He hasn’t been for a long time. “But I’d like to try.”

Even his bhaiyaa couldn’t find a way to argue with that, it seemed.

“Alright.” Yudhisthira relented, looking down into his cup distractedly. “We’ll go from there.”

“I’d like it if you would open up and try to make your own happiness too.” Nakula added, because it needed to be said. “With us. With Bhima. With Draupadi.”

“That’s enough.” It was a soft warning, but a warning nonetheless. He didn’t seem surprised that Nakula had suspected something was going on, or that he might’ve known earlier. “Get some breakfast, bhai. You’re much too thin.”

“Pot, kettle.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've always pictured Nakula as being one who takes no one's shit and can/will get even on his own terms when he pleases, but I'm also tired of the twins always being pushed into the background/irrelevance. Madri had sons too. They were important too, even if the most we get to hear about is Arjuna's wild ride from one end of the world to the other.
> 
> A little bit of a modern au at the end, because I've also been convinced Nakula wouldn't hesitate to pursue whatever he had to when it came to supporting family, even if it tires him out after a point. Modeling isn't easy and it's a cruel industry at times, but Nakula knows he's beautiful to look at and society has an addiction to beautiful things. But I figure he'd want to retire at some point and pursue something else, as soon as he knew his family could keep afloat if he left the industry.


End file.
